


Classic

by RisuAlto



Series: Tumblr Ask Prompt Fills [10]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Blood, F/M, Flirting as a Distraction Method, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-12 16:30:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21479413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RisuAlto/pseuds/RisuAlto
Summary: In which Fjord is reminded that the Traveler's power is not infinite, no matter what Jester says.
Relationships: Fjord/Jester Lavorre
Series: Tumblr Ask Prompt Fills [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1547980
Comments: 4
Kudos: 50





	Classic

**Author's Note:**

> This prompt was, "Touching clothing and their hand comes away bloody."

Fjord still wasn’t really sure what to think of the Traveler, even after all these months, but he’d never doubted the entity was _real_ since the moment he first saw Jester’s magic. However, it was in times like these that he found himself grateful to Jester’s patron (far more grateful than he usually was to his own, anyway), since it certainly wasn’t _his_ magic that was healing the gaping slice across his chest. It still stung, even as Jester’s hands coaxed warmth and feeling back into the newly-restored flesh. Frankly, Fjord was afraid of moving too fast because the wound felt like it might still tear open again at any second. But at least, for now, he wasn’t losing any more blood.

“Thanks,” he said, nodding with a sigh of relief.

Jester did not move her hands as a devious gleam caught in her eyes. “You’re _welcome_,” she purred. “Does it hurt anywhere else?”

Breath had suddenly become a scarce commodity, and Fjord was pretty sure it wasn’t just from the pressure on his chest. “No—no, I—I think that was the worst of it,” he said, putting both hands around Jester’s wrists and pushing them back enough that he could sit up.

A second of silence passed and Fjord lowered their hands to rest between them on top of Jester’s knees. His brain ran quickly through a list of possible lines that she might try next, ranging from, _Are you suuuuure?_ to _Oh, well, if you’re feeling better… _followed by some very suggestive eyebrows.

The single second stretched on into two, then three, then several, and Jester still said nothing. Fjord straightened up and peered into her face, and he found that her eyes were shimmering and distant. Her blue lip was practically white with pressure where she was biting it, dangerously close to drawing blood with one fang. All her other features were frozen as though caught between one expression and the next.

“Jester?” he asked.

Something moist—damp, thick, and warm—had made its way around Fjord’s leather gauntlets and was seeping between his right fingers where they held Jester’s wrist, still lying atop her leg.

Slowly, Fjord took Jester’s left arm in both of his and uncurled the hand near her wrist, starting from the heel so he could inspect his own hand without letting Jester go. Her wince at the change in pressure didn’t escape him this time, but he was more focused on the fact that the leather over his palm was slick with blood, shining dimly in the light. Jester’s usually-blue wristlet was soaked through with it and it clung to her skin.

Jester quickly pulled her hand back and cradled it to her chest. Fjord found his own hands hovering uselessly between them, unsure whether to follow her or draw back. He clenched and unclenched his fingers slowly, as though it would somehow wring the blood out. “Can you, uh… can you heal it?” he asked.

“It’s not a big deal,” Jester said, shaking her head with a smile that flashed her fangs.

Fjord shook his head back. “It’s your dominant hand, Jester; it is a big—”

“I’m out of magic for right now, anyway, Fjord, and it really doesn’t hurt that bad, so don’t worry about it.”

_You’re only out ‘cause you used the last of it on me._ Fjord huffed and started to push off from the ground. “Stay here a minute,” he said, rushing towards where the rest of the party was searching bodies.

“Beau,” Fjord called quietly once he was closer, “you got any extra bandages?” She looked up, blue eyes scanning over him quickly as though looking for wounds. He sighed. “For Jester. Her hand—”

“Aw, shit, is she okay?” Beau asked, glancing in Jester’s direction.

Fjord took a breath. “Yeah, she’ll be fine. It’s not too bad, but, ah…”

“Yeah, I got it. Here.” A roll of cloth drawn from the med kit on Beau’s hip was tossed into his hands and Fjord nodded in thanks before rushing back to Jester, who hadn’t moved at all except to watch Fjord as he came closer.

He settled the bandages in his lap and held out a hand. “Here,” he said, “let me see.”

Jester put her arm in his outstretched hand and he slowly began peeling away the partially-ruined glove to clean the wound. It was slow work without a real source of water, but he managed, and by the time he tucked the last pass of the bandage in, no blood was visible against Jester’s skin. Even so, he didn’t quite let go.

Jester moved her arm just slightly until she could take Fjord’s lightly in her own hand. “Thanks, Fjord,” she murmured, jewelry on her horns jingling as her head tilted to the side with a satisfied smile.

He looked down. “Anytime, Jester.”


End file.
